I Love His Hatred
by The Hand of Omega
Summary: A story told from the Joker's POV. Enter if you dare.


I shoot the woman before me and smile at the way her brains explode out of her skull. Then I laugh as her body falls over like a Store Dummy. It's funny. Killing people always is.

I turn and watch as the boys blast lead into a few innocent civilians with their large machine guns. I hired three of them this time. All of them big, strong, and reliable. And blood thirsty. The perfect combination.

The people act like idiots and are running around in circles. It's quite funny how panic affects the mind. I laugh again, and send bullets into some guy, his grey hair and beard making him look fifty-something. I secretly hope he has a family. That thought makes killing him so much more fun. I envision the look on his wife's face. The screams of his children.

I laugh again and do the same thing to a nicely dressed lady. As she collapses like a sack of potatoes, I notice how she seems a little bloated around the middle. Pregnant. Score. I hit two birds with one stone.

I decide to stop using my gun and pull two gas bombs out of my overcoat pocket. Pulling the pins, I send them flying. The explode in the crowd, choking them in the thick yellow smoke. Their laughs start instantly. I close my eyes and grin, the sound of their laughter a chorus to my ears. They start to fall over and die, unable to breath because of their uncontrollable fit of giggles.

I will never get tired of this.

Then, suddenly, I hear one of my goons, Luke I think, yelp and crash to the ground. I open my eyes and look. My smile grows.

Batman. Happy day.

I watch as he descends on the other two, his cape enveloping them like a living shadow. He silences them. He then looks at me, his white eyes narrowing.

I love it when he stares at me like that. Sends chills down my spine.

He rockets towards me, arms outstretched, to tackle me. Maybe pummel me into the ground. Maybe break my jaw. Maybe whack my head repeatedly on the concrete until I can no longer see and can only taste blueberries.

That would be funny. Blueberries. I like blueberries. A lot actually. If I manage to avoid getting captured, I think I'll go get some. Arkham Asylum never has them.

I shoot in Batman's general direction, knowing he'll move _just _in time to avoid getting hit. It's incredible to watch his agility. Hypnotic really.

He reaches me, knocking the gun out of my hand. I punch his unshielded jaw, knowing it causes him little pain. He, the man who is essential a walking mass of muscle, buried under a suit made of pure Kevlar. He rams me in the stomach. A bit of my lunch makes its way up my throat. Pizza. Or Tacos. Or both. Eww.

Batman grabs me by my overcoat and leans in closer. Says something about putting me back in Arkham. I simple smile back and kiss him on the nose.

"Oh but my dear Batman, you know I'll escape. I always do," I say, giving him the eye stare I know he hates. "You'll only stop me when you break that little rule of yours." I do love taunting him.

He snarls, a lovely sound really, and tosses me aside. I hit the concrete. My smile disappears.

He's in a bad mood. Was in one before he got to me. I wonder why for a moment.

And smile. The anniversary. I had almost forgot in all this excitement.

"By the way," I say, rising to my feet. "How's that new Robin of yours doing? The one who actually wears pants instead of those sissy green undies."

He knows where I'm going with this. He growls and picks me up again, ready to throw me somewhere. Or beat me to a pulp. Or both.

"I must say, he's a much better replacement to the original than that travesty you had a few years ago. You know… the feisty one. The sarcastic one."

He wants me to shut up. His hold on me tightens.

"Yes… you failed a bit with him. Good thing I intervened… you would still have him today. Even if he just got worse, you wouldn't have done anything. It takes balls to actually lay the smack down on the misbehaving youth of the world. Especially with a crowbar."

He punches me clean across the face, sending a tooth flying. Blood fills my mouth. Blood tastes icky. Metallic.

He then throws me to the ground and begins to kick me. I let him. I don't bother to fight back. I don't bother to pull out my knife and stab him. I don't bother to send a cloud of Laughing Gas in hi direction. I don't want to. There was a reason I led this random little killing spree… I wanted to draw him out. To remind him. Remind him that I will always remember the day I killed his little Bird. Tell him that I escaped Arkham just to remind him. And kill people.

I like killing people. I especially like the fact that he keeps count of all my victims. Always. Without fail.

I really like that he keeps count.

I start to go into shock and I see black spots. Oh well. Back to Arkham. Back to having no blueberries. Back to anxiously awaiting the night I can dance with him again. Maybe I'll bring Harley next time.

I hope he brings the new Robin. I would like that.

Everything starts to go dark. I know I'll be in the medical ward when I wake up. He'll be gone.

So I mutter a soft "Bye." And smile. He hates it when I smile.

And I just love to make him hate me. It's funny.

Damn. Now I really want blueberries.


End file.
